Just a Man
by peroxidepest17
Summary: Conrad distances himself.


**Title: **Just a Man  
**Universe:** Kyou Kara Maou  
**Theme/Topic:** Duality  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Character/Pairing/s:** ConradxYuuri, mentions of one-sided YuurixWolfram. Yozak, Gwendal, Gunter, Anissina, Greta, Cheri, Shori et. al.  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** Nothing major I can think of. Probably some OOC and wangst, but it's too be expected when I throw Wolfram into stuff.  
**Word Count: **2,188  
**Summary:** Conrad distances himself.  
**Dedication:** requested by electify on my lj. Sort of. She didn't make any specific pairing requests, but this is ME we're talking about. XD;; Also for pyrefly, as a good luck wish for you as you work on your yuletide fic! I haven't even started mine yet. XD **  
A/N:** Schmoopy? Probably. But it was all I could think of, okay? And I'm kind of tired after restructuring the entire first act of my screenplay in one night. dies  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.  
**Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

Yuuri noticed that while Conrad had never had any qualms about grabbing him, pulling him out of harm's way, pushing him behind protectively or guiding him by the elbow (all protective gestures), at the same time, the soldier also seemed to be avoiding the young king's touch under other circumstances as much as possible, visibly steering away from the ones that didn't involve any of the usual sorts of saving or leading or showing or teaching.

Yuuri was beginning to suspect that as time went on, Conrad only seemed to have a professional interest in touching him.

And that made the young king wonder if he was still just duty to the other man, a job, someone Conrad had to protect and watch out for as outlined by the dictates of his _profession_, his _family_, his _name_. Not that those things had _never_ been _part _of the equation, as Conrad was Conrad. But at the same time, it felt like this was beginning to be the case even more so now than before, perhaps after the novelty of their acquaintance had worn off, after they'd grown used to one another and each other's company.

Yuuri thought that lately, it seemed as if Conrad was growing disinterested in him as a person, but continued to serve him as his lord all the same.

It made the young king wonder if he really was someone important to Conrad after all.

And the more he thought about it the more he noticed these things as they popped up— perhaps becoming acutely aware of every little gesture as possible sign, a possible snub, a possible clue. For example he noticed the way Conrad more and more, was beginning to be the last to move forward to fish Yuuri out of the many ponds or pools or lakes he ended up in when he washed away from home only to show up in Shin Makoku. Or how Conrad was less forthcoming with simple touches just meant for greeting—Yuuri saw now, how the solider would simply smile and nod from the sidelines while Yuuri clasped the others' hands to say his hellos or goodbyes.

It worried him for one thing—he might have done something wrong, after all—and for another, it also made the young king just the slightest bit sad.

Lonely, perhaps.

And if Conrad noticed it he didn't move to do anything about it, simply continued to very quietly distance himself from Yuuri on step at a time, pulling away from the closeness they'd had in the past. And he did so without an explanation, without a clue written on the ever-calm features of a true soldier's face as to why.

Yuuri however, was less schooled in such things than Conrad was, and it was plain to everyone that their lord was saddened by the recent turn of events.

Gunter tried to cheer him up by inserting "fun lessons" into the daily grind of history and language courses, the likes of which included cultural adventures into the workings of Shin Makoku's festival traditions or popular foods and children's games. Yuuri bore them all with mild interest and gratitude for the effort of course, but Gunter was never quite able to lift the shadow that remained in his king's eyes, no matter how hard he tried.

Gwendal knitted Yuuri a little bunny-rabbit-that-looked-like-a-fox and didn't say anything more on the matter.

Wolfram called him names and told him to stop being such a baby.

Cheri hugged him to her bosom and swung him from side to side.

Anissina offered him "Cheer-Up-Kun" brand medicines, specially plucked from her homebrewed stores.

Shori stopped eating his octopus wieners.

Greta baked him cakes. All the time.

His mother made extra curry.

And he appreciated all their efforts, and was glad for their company, but in the end their gestures of affection (as convoluted as some of them were) served only to remind him of someone who _wasn't_ trying to let him know he was wanted.

Sometimes all their efforts did was make things even worse.

To the point that he would often find himself sitting alone in the gardens, poised on the edge of an elaborate fountain and looking at his reflection in the water, _wondering_ what he'd done wrong, or what was changing.

It got to the point that one day, Yozak went so far as to seek him out privately, finding the king at his usual hiding spot staring disconsolately at the water.

"Oi, highness… you keep that sad face on you'll kill all the flowers with the gloom," the soldier said breezily, and joined Yuuri there without waiting for an invitation.

"Sorry," Yuuri said, sheepishly. "I was just…thinking, I guess."

Yozak made a clucking noise in the back of his throat. "Lemme guess… about taichou?"

"Yeah," Yuuri admitted, and sighed. "Do you know if I did anything to make him upset with me over the past few weeks? It feels like he doesn't want to talk to me at all."

Yozak chuckled. "You'd think that, eh? Taichou can be sneaky when he wants to be, I guess."

Yuuri blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Yozak shrugged one shoulder, lazily. "Don't know if it's my place to say exactly, majesty, but I gotta least get one thing off my chest that's been buggin' me. Taichou may seem like the perfect little soldier most of the time, but in the end he's still just a man underneath it all. Got all the same weaknesses the rest of us got."

Yuuri frowned. "I know that."

"Do you really?" Yozak asked, and there was something behind the mirth in his eyes then, something deeper. "Because if you do, I'm not gonna deny it, heika. You're being pretty damned cruel to the man."

Yuuri's brow furrowed. "I don't… I don't think I understand."

Yozak sighed. "Well… don't you think it'd be pretty unbearable to have someone you really loved expecting all these things from you when that person already had ties elsewhere?"

A beat.

And then, just like that, Yuuri's eyes widened. "You mean…"

"Like I said. Taichou's still a man in the end, majesty."

"Oh…" Yuuri breathed, and it was like everything suddenly made sense.

Yozak stood then, and stretched. He sounded weary. "It's not that he's avoiding ya, highness," he added, almost like an afterthought. "It's just that he's a little _too_ fond of ya, I guess. Probably what's really worryin' him. He thinks about these things, you know. Wouldn't believe it just to look at him, but it's all there, you know what to look for. Tryin' to be a good soldier all over again and forget he's a man in there somewhere, too."

And the orange-haired fighter turned to leave, mumbling to himself with a faux sort of cheer about how it was customary to follow up a good day's work with a nice long nap.

"Oh…" Yuuri said again, as he watched Yozak's slowly disappearing backside without really seeing anything at all.

Conrad was the kind of man who had an extraordinarily giving heart after all, and it would make perfect sense for someone like him to pull away in a situation like this.

Conrad once told him that knowing when to withdraw from battle was as important as winning them—the lives of those who believed in you far outweighed capricious terms like "victory" and "loss." Fight—and run—to preserve life.

There was no shame in retreating, he'd said—because as long as you were alive you could always be there to do something, to change something in the future. But if you were dead, there was nothing left for you.

Sometimes, of course, you couldn't run. Then it was all or nothing.

But sometimes you could, and when you could—if it meant continuing to live, to have that potential to change the outcome of the future—then you should take it. For the sake of those dear to you.

Conrad, Yuuri knew, was a man who lived by his own words.

And so he was withdrawing from battle now, for the lives of those dearest to him.

He would never betray a king, but neither would he ever betray a brother.

And Yuuri suddenly felt inordinately cruel, to make Conrad fight that battle when in reality, there was none to be had in the first place.

Because in the end, as good a soldier as he was, Conrad was still a man—plagued by the same wants, desires, envies, pains and loves as any other.

Yuuri felt something like resolve burn into him as he thought about these things, tried to see them from Conrad's perspective. And it was the first time he'd ever felt an overpowering need to deal with these issues, the ones he'd kept hidden in the back of his closet as long as he could.

Conrad was right—always was, it seemed. Sometimes you had to retreat to live.

Yuuri stood then, pulled his eyes from where they were staring down at his own reflection in the water and looked up at the towering heights of the castle instead, the place where he was king, where he was reminded day in and day out that he had a responsibility to his people. To those he held most dear.

All of them.

He couldn't afford to remain as he was, the kind of person who would sacrifice someone else's feelings simply because he was afraid of hurting others.

Conrad was a good soldier, would bear it as a personal duty without a hint of resentment towards anyone, Yuuri knew. He would retreat so that his young king wouldn't be the one who had to choose in the end, who had to fight this battle—his _own _battle— and possibly be hurt in the aftermath.

Soldiers fought for their kings, after all.

And just like that, if he could, Sir Weller would rather sacrifice himself in this fight in lieu of letting Yuuri or Wolfram. A good soldier, a good brother.

But underneath it all, still a man, with the same fears and wants and desires and loves as everyone else.

Thinking about it, what Conrad was trying to do, made Yuuri feel inordinately cowardly. And selfish.

But enough of that.

He was still alive after all, and just like Conrad had always told him, as long as you were alive it meant that you could change the future, could make things different from how they were.

Yuuri took a deep breath and headed back into the castle.

Yes, sometimes you had to retreat to live.

But, he supposed, sometimes you also had to move forward to win.

For the sake of those most precious to you.

Wolfram slapped him hard across the face when he broke off their engagement, and Yuuri thought that the look of indignant anger on the blond's face hurt just a little bit more than the blow itself.

He apologized as best he could while Wolfram stormed out of the room and Gunter promptly moved in to fuss and fume and go off in search of ice to place on the young king's cheek. Gwendal only sighed at the newest turn of events, and the mixture of relief and long-suffering Yuuri saw on the commander's face lead him to believe that the eldest of the three brothers had known what the outcome would be all along.

"It's about time," was all Gwendal had to say on the matter—mildly chastising—before he promptly marched off in search of Wolfram. Presumably to make sure no property damage occurred during what was bound to be a particularly furious—and extended-- fit of pique on the blond's part.

Conrad didn't say anything.

But he did move forward and lay a hand Yuuri's shoulder.

The young king didn't know if the gesture was meant to be one of comfort or apology, but he did know that most important of all, it wasn't a retreat.

"Are you hurt?" Conrad asked after a moment, and Yuuri suddenly remembered the blow he'd received just now. He touched his burning cheek, thoughtfully.

"No, I'm okay," Yuuri admitted. And then, because he had to ask, "Are _you_ okay, Conrad?"

Conrad chuckled a little at that, like he hadn't expected any of this at all and wasn't quite sure what to do or expect next. Knowing him, he probably hadn't even considered this a possibility.

"I'll live, Yuuri," he said after a moment, and looked a mixture of bemused and helpless when he did.

The young king couldn't help but feel relieved when he heard that. "Good."

The older mazoku smiled gently and squeezed Yuuri's shoulder then, and it was only when Gunter came barreling back into the room with a bag of ice clutched between his fingers that Conrad withdrew his hand, stepping backwards to give Yuuri enough space that the lavender-haired man could fuss over him and his grievous injury properly.

Yuuri looked helplessly after him, but smiled through Gunter's manic administrations nonetheless.

Because even if Conrad was moving away again, this time Yuuri knew that it wasn't a retreat.

**END**


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